


Cinnarella

by ryuugalockheart



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Angst, Feels, Humor, M/M, Sarcasm, WIP, fluffy shit, oh language too, potential scoodlypooping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuugalockheart/pseuds/ryuugalockheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In our house, we competed in everything. Everything. Except chores. I've won all those by default. Mostly because I'm the only one who ever does them. I'm pretty sure Ichi and Ni see me as a housekeeper more than a sibling. Not that I particularly care. I mean, someone has to do it, right?<br/>---<br/>No matter how badass you are, you worry about your grades. And mine sucked some hardcore monkey balls. Only a month into school and my highest grade was a D+ in Oral Comm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cinderella Man

**Author's Note:**

> This story alternates between Clear and Mink's PoV's. It's also written in first person. Mink is a bit OOC only because no one but Mink could possibly be as badass as he is. Except maybe Christian Bale. There's a shit-ton of foul language (especially with Mink) and a lot of sarcasm.

"Ichi, could you please clean up after yourself?" I asked for the third time that morning as I chopped up beef to put in the omelets I was making. Ichiru had left his homework sprawled out over the kotatsu in the living room the night before and still had not cleaned the mess up, it now being the next morning.

I glanced over the railing at him from the kitchen. However no matter how intently I stared at him, my brother showed almost no signs of even acknowledging I was there until about thirty seconds after I had spoken.

And even then, without looking up from his copy of the latest Shonen Jump novel, all he did was lick his finger and flip a page rudely.

"Ichi-"

"Why should I clean it up? That's why you're here, isn't it?" He hummed nonchalantly, eyes never leaving the page. As if to back up his own statement, Ichiru kicked his feet up onto the kotatsu, ripping up the papers with his boot heels.

I worked hard on that.

However, I kept my mouth shut and continued to make Nitori and Ichiru's omelets. Though when an ear-shattering shriek came from down the hallway, I very nearly dropped my whisk in the egg batter.

"ICHIRU!"

Said silverette flinched at the sudden outburst. Then realization seemed to dawn on his face and he swore loudly from the couch. Mildly confused, I watched in amusement as the youngest triplet, Nitori, stormed into the kitchen from the hallway. His face was pink with outrage and his eye make-up was half done. Ichiru jumped to his feet and lunged for the door leading into the garage from the living room.

 

Nitori snarled wickedly and launched himself over the two steps that led into the living room. The angry teen made contact with his brother and they both tumbled to the ground, door to the garage swinging gently. Ichiru and Nitori wrestled each other for about five minutes, Nitori shrieking loudly the whole time. Profanities were strong with these ones.

I pushed my glasses up and nonchalantly continued cooking.

"You're such a devil child!" Nitori screamed as he ripped at Ichiru's hair.

Funny. From where I stood, Nitori looked like the satan spawn. Though I didn't know what actually happened, so my opinion stood as invalid for now. (Later, I would find out that the WWE smack-down stemmed from the fact that Ichiru had used the last of Nitori's liquid eye liner.)

I looked at them over my shoulder as I loaded two plates up with omelets. Momentarily ignoring the screaming teenagers in my living room, I placed the plates on the table with two glasses of milk.

"Food." I said. I couldn't even hear myself say it over the screaming. But they evidently did, because within seconds, the two were at the table stuffing their faces.

I stared at them a moment before sighing deeply.

I don't know why I bothered to wait for a "thank you" anymore. I never received one. Even when I did something extra for them.

Glancing at the clock on the wall by the door to the garage, I poured myself a glass of milk. Throwing the glass back like a shot of whiskey, I gulped down the liquid.

In seven seconds flat.

I smirked and sighed, placing the glass in the sink behind me.

"Seven~." I cooed and Nitori snarled at me from his chair. I'd shattered his previous record of nine seconds and I can only imagine how that wounded his pride.

In our house, we competed in everything. Everything. Except chores. I've won all those by default. Mostly because I'm the only one who ever does them. I'm pretty sure Ichi and Ni see me as a housekeeper more than a sibling. Not that I particularly care. I mean, someone has to do it, right? Besides. Them seeing me as a maid means they leave me alone. For the most part. Sometimes they'll pick on me for their own amusement. Even though I'm the oldest.

I walked out of the kitchen and turned down the hall to the bathroom.

I don't eat breakfast in the mornings. I dunno why. Maybe it's a teenager thing.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror which looked so like my other two siblings. I hated being a triplet. It was so annoying. The only thing separating my appearance from theirs were the two moles on my chin.  I hated the word mole. It was such an ugly word. Ironically, moles were also called beauty marks. In my opinion, that was a much better term for it.

But I didn't have time to worry about that right now.

I pulled my glasses off and put my contacts in. Blinking my eyes, I looked around. Everything was clear (haah), so I suppose I put them in right. I brushed my hair, not bothering to put it in a ponytail like Ichiru and Nitori always did. Their hair was a little longer than mine. Theirs grew longer while my own bedhead seemed to expand outward.

I stopped caring about it a long time ago though.

I left the bathroom and crossed the hallway to my bedroom. Looking around for a moment, I spotted what I was searching for. I pulled on my white cargo boots over my jeans. Grabbing my messenger bag from my closet, I went to exit my room.

Wait, homework.

I promptly turned and reentered my room, grabbing up a stack of paper and a couple text books from my desk and stuffing them into my messenger bag.

For the second time, I went to leave my room.

Let's try this again.

I grabbed my wallet off my nightstand on my way out. Kinda needed that too if I was going to drop by Starbucks on my way to school.

I closed my door and made my way up the hallway, turning into the foyer.

Pulling my coat and scarf on, I turned to my brothers, who were still in the kitchen, finishing up.

"Could you two please clean up after yourselves when you're done?" I asked with a sigh even though I knew the plates would still be sitting there when I got home from school. "I'm leaving now."

Cheerful. Always cheerful.

"Yeah, whatever." Ichi said through a mouthful of omelet as he scrolled through something on his phone. Probably Facebook. Ichi had a bit of an eye contact problem.

Kids these days.

I turned and left the house quickly, closing the door behind me. I felt my skin prickle from the crisp morning air. August was when it started getting a tad chilly. I didn't mind, I loved the cold. Except my joints would get achy and a scar I have on my hairline kind of aches. It makes me feel elderly.

I sighed deeply and began walking down the street.

I was forever doomed to a semi-charmed life (yes, I went there) of flip phones and relying on my feet to get me places.

I didn't mind too much. I mean, sure, I get jealous of my brothers now and then. Who wouldn't, considering they both have cars, smartphones, and amazing clothes? They also get to drop all their homework on me. Being too nice, I don't have the heart to tell my siblings to do their own dang homework. On top of that, there's cleaning everyone's rooms, washing the dishes every night, doing their chores (mowing the lawn, cleaning the living room, etc.), and cooking dinner every night.

My friends don't call me Cinderella for nothing, I guess.

"Oi!"

"Clear!"

Faint calls reached my ears and I zoned back into reality. Looking around in confusion, I spotted three of my best friends waving at me from the other side of the street. I grinned for the first time since the previous Friday. I crossed the road, the wind blowing my scarf around my shoulders. I pocketed my hands, shivering in the cold. Once my boot touched the cement again, I grinned cheekily.

"Hey, everyone." I hummed softly, tucking my cold nose into my scarf.

A muscly arm hooked itself around my shoulders and I was pulled into Koujaku's chest for a one-armed hug.

"Morning, Cinderella!" The bluenette hummed, lips turning up in a cheeky grin around his early morning cigarette.

"Morning, Koujaku." I laughed awkwardly, trying to slip out of the death grip.

Poor Sei occupied Koujaku's other arm, and the shy boy smiled in sympathy to me.

"How was your weekend, Clear?" He hummed as Aoba sighed from in front of us.

Aoba and I answered in unison.

"Good."

I looked at him in confusion and Aoba sighed in exasperation. I gave him a blank look.

"You always say that, Cinderella, even though we all know how badly it sucked."

I opened my mouth to protest.

"It did not suck. I had a pleasant time baking this weekend." I grinned.

Which was entirely true. However, that was one of the only good things about my weekend, which consisted mostly of work, studying, and chores. I only worked weekends, thank God. I would drop dead from the stress otherwise.

Sei smiled softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself at least a bit this weekend."

I smiled and pocketed my hands, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck. We began walking down the street, Starbucks-bound. We headed there every morning to meet up with the other half of our squad.

"I always do." I answered simply.

Koujaku merely blew smoke from his lips in response.

"Anyway, Aoba-san. What did you do this weekend?" I asked to rid the air of an awkward silence.

"Sei and I went roller skating." Aoba frowned. "I barely managed to stay on my feet. . ."

I found myself staring off into the distance. Despite my facade, it actually did get very tiresome to only ever work and study. It was boring and repetitive. But someone needed to go to college in our family. Since I got my job, I've been portioning out money for college.

"Clear?"

I blinked back into reality.

Sei had placed his thin hand on my shoulder in concern. I turned to him.

"Hm?"

Koujaku frowned deeply and stomped out his cigarette.

"Kid, you need to take a break for a while." The bluenette frowned, staring down at me. "You never do anything for yourself, ever."

"What? I'm fine." I said, feeling suddenly targeted by the disapproving frowns turned my way. "Really. I don't mind working all the time. It gives me something to do, other than visiting Grandpa."

Lies.

Aoba glanced at me, silently calling my bullcrap. Sei smiled at me, sliding from Koujau's arm to hug me.

I smiled back.

I'm fine. I have to be. For him.


	2. 30 Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus. Okay. Sorry for this ridiculous wait. I swear, I haven't forgotten about this. In fact it is currently 4:02am because I wanted to fucking finish this bullshit. I've recently fallen deep into the soul-crushing hell that is Homestuck, so forgive me. I'm healing slowly. Also I'm kind of rewriting this fic as I go because rereading it I've realized how bad it is. ^^; So I hope It's not to brainmelting.

_Squeak. Squeak._

  
The ear-splitting ring of sneakers on a freshly waxed gym floor made my brain cringe inside my skull.

  
Quicky, anxiously. Faster, faster, the sneakers continued to shatter my eardrums.

The ball bounced between the floor of my fingers, the texture of it making my hand tingle, but that was so low on my Give A Fuck meter that it didn't even register.

The heat from the blinding stadium lamps was nearly unbearable. A dull roar throbbed in my ears, and it registered to my fried brain that it was the crowd. They were screaming my team name. My name. My chest constricted with the not-unfamiliar anxiety of a point-guard. My team's reputation was on my shoulders-

No. Shut the hell up. You can't afford any distractions. Focus, asshole.

Sweat poured down my temple.

Through the blood rushing in my ears I heard my name and a call for a pass. It was Ren, our team captain. I hesitated.

No. This was my moment. All on me. I was taking us to finals.

I ducked past the opposing player who was pathetically attempting to block 6'2" me with 5'5" him. I could squish him with our height difference.

What a weakling. I didn't deal with people like him, and I sure as all hell wasn't about to let him get one up on me.

My feet slammed forcefully on the court, the basket rapidly approaching. I jumped at the three-point line. The ball sailed through the air-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I scowled bitterly at the interruption as my feet landed themselves on cracked concrete. Spectacular stadium lights shattered into pink and yellow flickering streetlights that had to be decades old. The heat from all the bodies under one roof snapped suddenly into a brisk chill that send a hard shiver up my spine. The dome of the stadium faded into two towering, brick, apartment buildings behind the baskets directly in front and behind me. The roaring crowd on either side was replaced with rattling chain fences that encased the pathetic street court I stood on. And in between the split in the fence used as a sketchy entryway to said pathetic street court stood the very last person I wanted to see right then.

The ball bounced off the rim of the hoop sadly and Tori caught it with a mere flick of his wrist. Such an action made me wonder why he wasn't on the team himself.

My train of thought abruptly halted and splintered into pieces when the asshole opened his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be doing better things with your spare time?" He sighed in exasperation. "Like, I don't know, maybe studding for one of the six classes you're failing?"

He bounced the ball back to me, a frown not unlike my own smeared across his face.

I returned the expression and caught the ball, snarling at him and his pompous attitude.

Tori stuck his lip out in a mock pout, crossing his arms and padding across the court toward me.

"Oooh, what a scary face, cousin."

I repeated my snarl for emphasis and abruptly turned ninety degrees to spring up and let the worn basketball leave my grasp.  
"Shouldn't you be fucking walking to prison?"

 _Swish_.

I could practically hear his eye roll.

"School does not qualify as a prison."

"Oh, right. You don't stay over night. My fucking bad."

He gave another annoyed sigh.

"Anyway, how are you one to talk? Yes, I'm late, but you're out here in your damn pajamas." He shivered as if to prove his point. "It's like forty degrees out here and you couldn't be bothered in your self-righteous idiocy to put a damn shirt on?"

"Why the hell should I wear a shirt?" I asked, pretending like I didn't feel the painful goosebumps on my arms. I was not about to prove him right, even though he always was anyway and he knew it.

"Because you're going to 'prison.'" He said, dramatically air quoting the word and cringing as if it left a bad taste on his tongue. It was the face one made after taking a sip of coffee only to realize they had forgotten to put sugar in it.

"I don't need to listen to you." I said in irritation, walking up to retrieve the ball that had bounced away.

This punk ass was not going to just boss me around. I'm older than him, dammit.

Tori frowned at my response and walked up, swiftly stealing the ball ("Bitch-!") and tucking it under his arm to force me to acknowledge his existence. Now he was giving me the look. That dumbass look that said how much smarter he was than I am. God, what I would give to sock him in the jaw for that look.

"You can't just skip every day, Mink. You're grades are so far down the toilet that it's clogging the drain."

Very classy.

I scowled in annoyance - I seemed to do that a lot around him, god I need a cigarette - and ran a hand through my dreads.

Tori walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, which I immediately shrugged off.

"It's only seven thirty-five. If you go home now, then you can change-"

"Tori." I snarled, though the pink-haired brat had never been intimidated by me and likely never will.

He glared daggers at me with gold eyes, a trait amongst our family.

"If you skip school, your grades will be shit. If your grades are shit, then you'll get kicked off the team. If you get kicked off the team-"

"-I won't get the scholarship to Stick-Up-My-Ass University." I said. He had given me this speech so many times I could say it backwards. "Will you quit being such a pain in my ass?"

"You're going to school. Go home and put some damn clothes on." Tori said, voice indicating no room for an argument.

With that, he turned on his heel and left the court, along with my basketball.

Christ almighty, Tori drove me fucking nuts. Mostly because he's usually right about literally everything. Which is irritating because he's a year younger than me at seventeen. I should be the one guiding my young grasshopper down the right path. Which probably involved drugs and delinquency. Isn't that how this "family" bullshit was supposed to work?

Well, regardless of how shit is supposed to go, I left the court too and turned the opposite way in which Tori did - the direction of the Scratch compound.

Walking up the block, I felt the all-too-familiar twist in my stomach at the thought of my grades.

No matter how badass you are, you worry about the shitty things. And mine sucked some serious donkey dong. I was only a month into school and my highest grade was a D+ in Oral Comm..

I sighed.

I hated it, but Tory was right. I just felt so hopeless about it. Like no matter how hard I try to dig myself out of the shit I got myself into, the hole I'm in just gets deeper and deeper. I'm secretly afraid that one day the hole will begin to fill up and bury me alive.

I chewed anxiously at the inside of my cheek, an action I would no doubt regret later. I needed a cigarette desperately. It was fucking killing me.

 

* * *

 

I stepped up onto the porch of our family compound. Our family was enormous and needed three separate houses to accommodate everyone.

Upon stepping inside, I was immediately bombarded by twin terrors. Their names were Kai and Mai, and they were my younger twin siblings. They were only seven but their attitudes matched those of stereotypical teenage girls.

"Where did you go, onii-chan?" Mai asked as she sat her itty bitty butt on my right foot. Kai immediately followed suit with my left, huffing in agitation through my nose.

"Where's your shirt, onii-chan?" Kai asked me. I tossed my head back.

"Mom!"

A clatter of pots was heard and a cry of alarm rose from the kitchen as my mother rushed into the corridor. She was holding a spatula caked in something presumably of the egg variety. Her pale blue hair was loosely braided in with an assortment of beads and feathers.

"Mink! What the hell are you doing here, child, it's almost time for school!" She seemed rather annoyed, but not quite angry. Which was good for me.

I swallowed and came up with a shitty lie that would be enough for me to evade her.

"I uh. Lost track of time at the court."

It wasn't entirely a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth.

She scowled and swatted my siblings off my ankles. They giggled and tugged at her apron. Poor woman.

"Tori already left! Honestly, what kind of example are you setting for the children! Get your ass in gear, first bell rings in ten." She scowled, the expression so like my own. She turned and sashayed back into the kitchen with two small children running circles around her fast enough to make me dizzy.

Melodramatic teenager sigh.

My clan is three-fourths Cherokee Indian and a fourth Japanese. Among the older members of my family was spoken the language of our native culture.

I jogged down the corridor to my own room, nearly mowing down my father's mother, who quite literally halved my height. I flinched as she swatted my hip with her cane. Ow.

"Watch where you're going, _agalyvwi_!" She shrilled. That pretty much means idiot in Tsalagi.

I grunted an apology and slipped past her, ignoring her loud ranting. I didn't understand what she was saying, since it was all in a language I didn't know, but it had to be offensive because my mom started yelling in Tsalagi from the kitchen.

It was something like, "Don't use that language in my house!"

Leaving the argument, I entered my room and with lazy urgency (is that a redundant statement?) threw on clothes that may or may not be clean.

The way the Scratch family estate was set up, it was like one of those houses in an old Japanese movie with the sliding doors and paper walls that you have to re-paper every fucking time it rains.  
We all lived in three identical houses. In the first house (the Mitchell household) was Tori, his adoptive parents, and my dad's parents. Tori's adoptive parents were comprised of my dad's twin brother Alecks and his husband Derek, who was an American. Then in the next house (the Scratch house) was my immediate family. This consisted of Kai and Mai, my older sister Aiko, her two-year-old Chihirro, and our parents, Ryuu and Kita. And then there's me. In the third house (the Uraharas) lived my mom's twin brothers Daisuke and Misaki, her dad, Daisuke's wife, and their four kids. From youngest to oldest: Ludo, Tristan, Brett, and Extermi (or Exi, who was also the only girl.)

Each of our houses were a part of a compound that has been in our family "for generations."

So it was pretty much ridiculously fucking loud 24/7. Especially with Chihirro, the two-year-old and my sister's kid. The brat never shuts up. And Aiko is only nineteen, the poor bitch.

Though, in our clan, that age is perfectly acceptable to bear children, regardless on if the men actually stayed to help take care of the kid.

I brushed my hand through my dreads. I would have to have them redone at some point. I re-braided some feathers into the gross locks of hair. I had always loved how my ancestors had braided random pheasant paraphernalia into their hair. Aesthetic.

I ran from my house, adjusting my drawstring bag on my shoulder. I would probably be late, but who cared?

It was just school.


End file.
